This is the meadow.
It slopes from bright South
down to the West and North
from the primroses in the southern hedge
down through the violets, sometimes white,
in the western hedge tipping down
to the rabbit warren and
down to the wild garlic
in perpetual shadow in the northern ditch
shouting among the nettles
this is where, each morning in May,
the world is made anew;
there are more wild flowers in this meadow
than you’ll ever see together –
cowslips, oxslips, pink mayflowers,
wild orchids, red scabious,
yellow celandines, clover, cuckoo-pint...
and as the sun curves slowly round,
and the shadow moves aside,
the flowers, saturated with the morning dew,
shine each with a crystal drop
and it’s not until you step among them
and a small cloud of moths and butterflies rise up,
that you see the meadow is so full of life,
sipping its daily bread of dew
and in an hour or so, pollen, honey;
every day this meadow
invites, invents anew
words fresh as dew –
joy, constancy, innocence,
love, freedom, rest,
wonder, praise, and gratitude –
if every day this miracle,
what of tomorrow
and the heart?
I live in deep country, and this is a near-perfect description of life in the meadow. I feel refreshed, as though I have just been for a walk through this meadow! How beautifully written Michael....
Ah, the appreciation that comes with age (and loss) delightfully expressed avr
what beauty you convey Michael. What impresses me the most is your attention to detail.
That's beautiful Michael; the detail and the imagery is so carefully observed, it's like falling into a wonderland of sort.
A gorgeous, encompassing poem that makes me long for the English countryside!
This is the meadow. It slopes from bright South down to the West and North from the primroses in the southern hedge down through the violets, sometimes white, in the western hedge tipping down to the rabbit warren and down to the wild garlic in perpetual shadow in the northern ditch shouting among the nettles Dear to me this lovely meadow and lovable poem. Wish to be with this great poet. Wish to write like this
Simply beautiful. I keep reading it...again and again and again.
Michael, You are the miracle - artist, musician and poet all rolled into one. Your warmth and joyful spirit shine though every word. I want to dance in your poem. love, Allie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I thought it was there for ever...now it's precious.